


Them (Poem)

by Jay_R



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:12:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_R/pseuds/Jay_R





	Them (Poem)

What is it that makes us alive?  
Is it the heartbeat in our chests? The thoughts in our heads?  
Or is it the emotions we feel, that classify us as alive?  
Is it the dull throb of pain? Or the fresh sting of tears?  
Who is to tell if I am truly alive or not?  
What if I have a heartbeat, yet I am missing all other things above? What if I’ve lost all sensation, all determination?  
What if I am merely surviving, keeping myself not-dead, does that make me alive?  
That seems to be my situation, and I refuse to classify myself equal to all of the others, the living.  
I used to be alive. I’m not claiming to be dead; I’m just not alive anymore  
My smile, my laughs, my frowns, the concerned furrow of my eyebrows, none of it is real anymore.  
True emotions, to me, are now either rage fits, or extreme indifference  
I feel so detached, as if life is a big masterpiece painting, and I am merely a lone viewer.  
I tolerate everyone around me, smile at them, am understanding, be what is needed.  
I am a million people  
I am a lover, a caretaker, a thinker, a ruler, a musician, an antisocial, a social butterfly, a kid, an adult, a friend, an enemy, an honest person, and a fiend  
But none of those people are alive  
They breathe, they exist, but they are not alive  
I walk through the crowds, and I feel so different  
Like there’s an ocean of them, the living, the feeling, the ones who don’t turn limp when all eyes turn away, and then there is a single me. I wouldn’t classify myself as an island, more like a lone, empty rowboat, struggling against the harsh waves, threatening to pull me below the waters and drown me  
As I watch people talk about me as if they know me, I feel so amused. Who do they think they are? Thinking they know me?  
Some days I don’t even know myself.  
I’ve gotten lost, and the ocean has pulled me below, and im sinking, I’m rotting, and something I can’t see is scraping away at my soul, and it pains me to speak, it pains me to breathe, it pains me to see everyone and then see me  
Some days I can’t even pull up enough determination to fight back.  
Why would it be so bad to be engulfed by the frigid waters of Them? To lose myself, and become one with the ocean  
Some days I pray for a savior  
Other days, I come with myself and admit; I’ve gotten many saviors, but I don’t trust them enough to let them save me   
Some days I don’t even trust myself  
And I feel like I’ve got no confidant, I’ve given up on all of them, because I’ve given up on my kind  
Are they even my kind?  
They’re so happy and satisfied  
They’re not perfect, but to me they are  
And here I am  
Crumbling  
Shaking  
Breaking  
Drowning  
Giving up


End file.
